


something old, something new

by wildcursive



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Action, Dark Matters, Introspection, Multi, Nureyev did nothing wrong, Nureyev's debt, Original Character(s), Other, Post Juno Steel and The Heart of It All, Wedding Fluff, it's so prominent I have to tag it separately, juno's wedding dress, posted right before the ep drops and disproves everything in it because that's how i roll, this has like 3 episodes' worth of Juno monologue but it's in the 3rd person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27663355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcursive/pseuds/wildcursive
Summary: The Aurinko crime family is celebrating another win - successfully organizing the wedding of their captain and ship's doctor in the very limited time frame the two set for themselves. Life of course is never that easy, and even if bad things usually come in threes, sometimes a pair of catastrophes is more than enough.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58





	something old, something new

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! This is the first Penumbra fic I post, although I have two WIPs that I started before it in the works, and let me tell you this one was something. I had the initial idea for it the moment Buddy declared "Vesbud wedding in 3 days" with only Juno POV left for the next episode, but the process of putting the whole thing together, plus some RL responsibilities have left me here, 6 weeks later, posting right before Kabert can swoop in and give us the actual thing in canon. 
> 
> I still rushed to finish this, cause even if I don't actually think any of these things will happen in canon (or even want them to), I wanted to put this version of events and all my emotions about it out there, I hope it's at least somewhat enjoyable to someone else. I intended it to be about 3-4k, but here we are at 7.6k I guess. :D
> 
> Special thanks to [Amdis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amdis) and [Mary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryGin/pseuds/MaryGin) (go read her fic, it's amazing) from the server, who really helped with this fic and motivated me to actually finish and post it.

"What'cha thinkin’ about, Mista Steel?”

Rita is not the sneakiest person by far and she has made it a point to never creep up on him in his blind spot. And yet Juno almost jumps at the sound of her voice. Even as uncharacteristically soft as it is — just like she sounded in the sewers under Newtown what now feels like a lifetime ago — it pulls him out of a reverie years in the making — it’s either 3 or about 17 years, depending on how you look at it. 

Juno looks up from the mostly-full glass of wine in his hand to where she is standing on his side. She is sparkling with all the glitter in her make-up and the sequin accents on her dress, and the sight tugs the corners of his lips up in a faint involuntary smile.

"My old wedding dress, what else," he sighs - no use trying to lie to Rita when she is the only one who would know exactly what is wont to be on his mind tonight. Plus, he has been trying to be more open with the people he loves, right?

She makes a sympathetic sound. "I don't know if we'll find it where we left it back in Hyperion, boss," then the earnest concern in her voice that always makes Juno anxious transitions to a conspiratory stage whisper. "But I'm sure Captain Jet would be happy to let us go shopping for a replacement, if ya want." The end of the sentence is punctuated with an elbow jab to Juno's ribs and an exaggerated eyebrow waggle.

"Hey watch it," Juno yelps as he feels a few sequins on her sleeve catch on the soft fabric of his dress. "You know Buddy will skin me if anything happens to this dress, she hasn't even worn it yet."

Indeed, despite the fact that it belongs to their soon-to-be former Captain — who, if her words are to be believed, owes a few very annoying individuals some very big favors for it — the opulent golden gown has only been worn once before — at Nova Zolotovna’s auction that started the chain of events which have led the Aurinko crime family to this moment. It felt only natural to come full circle with it.

Or maybe Juno wanted to enjoy Nureyev looking at him wearing it without the open disdain from their first joint mission for the family, so sue him.

He looks past Rita to where Nureyev is teaching Buddy and Vespa a newlywed dance that he learned for a con on Uruk a decade ago. The evening has progressed far enough that everyone is beginning to feel the exhaustion of the past three days, with exquisite make-up starting to smudge and those who drink settling into the comfortable buzz of expensive stolen alcohol. The heightened emotions of the past several days are finally being allowed to wear off and there is a haze of comfort and satisfaction in the air, a first for the crew of the Carte Blanche.

The dance Nureyev is teaching promised to be elaborate and lengthy enough that Juno allowed himself to retreat to the makeshift bar for a moment of melancholy. It has been pushing at the edges of his mind all evening and chemical imbalances in the brain apparently don’t leave you alone, even if you ask them nicely because this is one of the happiest days in your life. The Juno Steel who was stuck in Hyperion would have probably tried to hide from this moment at the bottom of a whiskey glass. The Juno Steel who has been gallivanting around the galaxy for the past year prefers to deal with it now and rejoin his family without the dark cloud of a poorly-repressed memory hanging over him.

Three days ago, when Buddy and Vespa announced their expedited wedding plans following the success of the Curemother Prime heist, Juno had managed to push thoughts of his own almost-elopement down under the torrent of orders from his Captain, but now, with the ceremony done and the party winding down, there is nothing to stop the ghosts of mistakes almost two decades old from creeping back up to the surface. He allows them to wash over him.

It should come as no surprise that Juno ”I'll try anything once” Steel asked his fiancé if they wanted to elope a month into their engagement. _"_

 _It's just an hour to Olympus Mons and I already have my dress,"_ he had told them.

It had been one of the very few good days of his early twenties, so, as was his way, Juno fought tooth and nail to ruin it. And hell, if Ben wasn't going be there for his wedding anyways, then he could do without any guests at all. 

Diamond, thankfully, was sensible enough to reject the idea, and for a long time Juno wondered whether that moment was the first nail in the coffin of that relationship. The idea is laughable now in comparison to the rest of his personal failings and the whole mess with Captain Hijikata, but in those first weeks after Diamond left, he would come home after a day spent at the Vixen Valley, open his closet and stare at the damned dress, blaming everything that went wrong on his impatience to wear it. 

He imagined hundreds of possible weddings as the image of that dress got irreparably seared into his mind, but none of them would come even close to what a handful of criminals can do with the very specific resources at their disposal and 70 hours to spare. It’s probably owed to the fact that master thieves are also required to be incredibly good planners, but the crew has managed to transform the Carte Blanche not only into a suitable venue, but into one apt for the wedding with the highest organizational flair to guest number ratio in the galaxy.

Performing a legendary heist that will remain in the records for decades, if not centuries, works wonders as a family bonding activity. Managing to plan a successful wedding with extremely limited time and resources works even better. 

They chose the garage as setting, both because it was the largest space available on the ship and due to the fact that the Ruby 7 threw several beeping fits and wouldn’t relent unless it was included in the bridal party. With Buddy and Nureyev’s combined determination to execute every plan impeccably and with flair, and Rita's heretofore undisclosed stylistic expertise, it almost looks like one of the proper high-end wedding halls back on Mars. The gem-encrusted napkin rings really are no surprise, considering the depth of Nureyev’s pockets, but Juno will be damned if he knows which one of the three just had piles of fake flowers lying around for the arrangements.

The ceremony was all set with Jet’s wedding officiant license — and Rita's minor interference with Solar Government databases to secure it — and his surprising talent in both writing speeches and delivering them in a solemn and unwavering tone, despite the steady stream of tears running down his cheeks and staining the soft grey fabric of his suit. With Juno and Vespa’s assorted auxiliary skills to round out the preparations, they have ended up with not only the best wedding party one could attend on a former tour ship that was almost shredded to bits less than half a year ago, but also with a better reception than anything that has been organized on at least half a dozen planets and in the entire history of Oldtown.

“Anyways,” Rita chimes in again. “Don’t get too lost in thought boss, we’ll be waiting for ya to come back to the dance floor.”

“Thanks, Rita,” Juno manages a genuine smile. “I won’t be long, promise.”

He watches as she walks away to observe the improvised dance lesson from up close. And then Juno is watching too. Buddy stands with her hands clasped in front of her chest, her off-the-shoulder crimson dress that somehow seems to defy gravity flowing around her with every minute sway, just like the wine in Juno’s glass. She is watching Nureyev teach Vespa her part of the steps now and Juno recognizes the softness in her gaze and the bright adoration in her eyes. 

Both brides apparently followed the same barely-remembered Earth traditions as Juno, because Vespa is dressed in the same color as her now wife. Her suit is familiar with its faded shade of rose red, a loan — or maybe a gift, Nureyev has been annoyingly tight-lipped about the circumstances that led to the doctor’s choice of attire — from the Duke himself. Juno doesn’t think he would have looked as happy as either of them in the deep red of his own dress. 

Finally, he allows himself to look at Nureyev. Somewhat like Juno himself, the thief has returned to the look he donned for their reunion heist, the golds of his shirt matching Juno’s dress, the whole garment made out of a semi-transparent satin with lace accents on the sleeves and on the high collar that outlines his long, slender neck. An ivory corset covers the shirt's lower half, embroidered in matching gold, while tight leather pants in a shiny black emphasize every fine line of Nureyev’s legs. He has forgone the elaborate mantle that he donned at the gala and, although no less exquisite, the look is lighter and freer. It is not Nureyev’s usual imposing armor meant as a statement of power in a room filled only with potential targets and enemies. If it is a statement now, the outfit declares ease and sincerity.

It’s fitting, Juno thinks, pun intended. It wasn’t until Buddy and Vespa’s first kiss, when everyone let out a collective breath of relief and quite a few tears, that he realized how charged the air on the Carte Blache had been for the whole year that he spent on it. Not just due to the risks of the Aurinkos’ self-appointed mission, but also because, for all the talk of being a family, they still spent the majority of the time distrustful of each other. 

But then, at the moment when four thieves of varying experience watched two criminal legends share their first kiss as wives, just a few doors down from where the most powerful medicinal entity in the galaxy was currently hidden, and not an eye was left dry, that’s when Juno felt the static in the air as it finally dissipated. That’s when he knew they had really become a family, because, despite how slick Buddy Aurinko thinks she is, she couldn’t hide her suspicions from Juno Steel, former detective.

Seeing her now, truly open to Nureyev, without the transparent walls of distrust that she has used to keep him at arm’s length over the past year, it would make Juno’s heart sing if it wasn’t for the secret hanging over both of their heads-

Nureyev looks up by chance and sees him watching, holds his gaze for a short moment and smiles at Juno in that faint and honest way that stops his breath and interrupts his train of thought. He had done the same earlier, during the ceremony, when Juno had managed to clear his vision of tears and let his gaze momentarily stray away from the brides and towards Nureyev, only to find him already looking back. That bright gaze that could light up even an Ancient Martian tomb miles underground had him pinned to the spot. It seemed so easy at that moment to go back to a fantasy that was old enough to buy its own liquor, of himself in Buddy's place and the love of his life next to him in a ceremony that somehow promised everything in his life would be okay from now on. 

Juno thinks he might almost have believed it again. He's both kinder to himself and much less of a dumbass than he was at 22, but the possibility of a catch-all solution to his problems, to the trainwreck that is life as Juno Steel, has never stopped being incredibly alluring. It had been even harder to resist earlier, with one of Nureyev’s hands in his own, the other resting on Juno’s waist, its warmth seeping through the thin material of his dress. In the three days after the success of their heist, this dance had been the first moment the two of them were able to share properly, to hold each other in soft comfort, and Juno knew that they both had so much to say — about the wedding and what’s next for the Aurinkos, about their own future together in relation that. 

He wanted to tell Nureyev the full story of his old wedding dress. The memories it dredged up and the fear it instilled in Juno’s heart are a topic that’s barely been touched in their conversations over the past year, but the moment was so precarious, too fragile to burden with words, let alone ones so heavy. And yet Juno was looking into Nureyev’s eyes, just as he is now, with the image of that damned dress in his mind’s eye and the fear and self-loathing that it has stirred in his gut for two decades slowly giving way to a kind of hope he had not felt since that brief moment when he first bought it.

But no, Juno Steel at 40 is at peace with the fact that nothing is as easy as that fantasy. He will never be truly fine and neither will Nureyev, and no beautiful gowns or ceremonies, or words can change that. But they are both better together, and with the others too. And the past year has been good, the best he has ever had really. 

Except.

Except for Nureyev's debt and his plan to deal with it. The first of several lies to their family is already weighing on them both, but even if Juno knows the truth about the “loss” of the Blade, Nureyev is hell-bent on giving him as little information as possible about his debtor (or debtors, Juno doesn’t even know if it’s an individual or a collective and it is _infuriating_ ) and what comes next. That ever-looming threat is what finally pulls him out of the reminiscence. He promised himself that he would not think about this, not today, but the sudden longing for a permanent future with Nureyev that is desperately clawing its way through his insides now can only be stopped with the cold, hard facts of the present.

He returns Nureyev’s smile, before turning to leave his glass on the bar in order to finally rejoin the others. Rita is the first who sees him approaching and clasps her hands together, mouth opening to form the sounds of his name. The crashing sound that follows in the next moment interrupts her, knocks down the wine glass Juno just placed on the bar, leaving a dark puddle of wine on its shiny surface, mercifully splashing away from his general direction. The ship shakes just enough to make everyone doubt their solid footing, halting suddenly.

A series of worried beeps comes from the Ruby 7. 

“The Ruby 7 reports that we have been stopped by a tractor beam, Captain,” Jet interprets helpfully. 

“What is it now?” Vespa growls. 

Then the intercoms come to life and Juno hears a voice that is chillingly familiar. 

“To the criminals known as the Aurinkos, this is Agent G of Dark Matters. We know you are in possession of the Curemother Prime. Relinquish it and you will be apprehended peacefully. Resist and die.” 

“Well, Vespa, dear, I am glad that they had the decency to wait for us to have a proper celebration first,” Buddy huffs, unceremoniously grabbing the hem of her dress and turning to the garage doors. “Rita, with me to the bridge.”

She receives the usual enthusiastic “Yes, captain!” from the hacker. 

“Jet and Juno, I am counting on you to rid us of them, stay here and be ready to take the car out to intercept. And, Juno, darling, do try not to get laser holes in the dress.” 

Jet responds with a nod. Juno rolls his eye good naturedly and rounds the bar to retrieve the weapons stashed behind it. A crime family never celebrates without a back-up plan after all.

“Ransom, Vespa dear, you go check on the Curemother-”

She is interrupted by an insistent beeping, the standard ringtone of a comms device that Nureyev shouldn’t have been able to fit anywhere in his tight outfit. Juno doesn’t need to ask who it is, there is only one reason why Nureyev would be getting a call with the whole family on the Carte Blanche together. He would laugh at the sheer impossibility of the two catastrophes coinciding if he wasn’t watching the color drain from Nureyev’s face so fast that he might as well have been going through Marshal D'arc's test of charity. 

Juno watches him somehow pull the device out from under his corset. The momentary silence is deafening and without the hum of the ship they can all clearly hear the voice on the other end of the line when Nureyev wordlessly answers the call.

“You have been sneaky, Peter. Your little alliance and the heist we have been hearing about were not part of our deal and there will have to be consequences.”

“No,” Nureyev gasps. “No, I can still provide you with the four artifacts,” he continues, eyes desperately darting around the room.

“You will do so now, or both Brahma and your little _crime family_ will have to answer for-"

“Now, understood,” he interrupts.

“You know where we are, you have three hours or we come find _you_.”

Vespa already has a knife out when the call disconnects. It is not her piece of the gem-encrusted pair that comprised Nureyev’s wedding gift, but it is pressing against Peter’s throat the moment the call ends.

“I should’ve slit your skinny neck back on that station,” Juno hears her growl. 

"Hey now-" He calls, trying to approach, but a defeated look by Nureyev and the murder in Vespa's eyes stop him in his tracks. 

“Well Ransom,” Buddy interjects calmly, her tone smooth in the same way it was when she was dealing with Rasbach, barely hidden contempt underlining every word. “When I said that four guests were far from the number of people I expected at my wedding, that was not an invitation for you to bring your own.” 

“Nureyev,” even in the deafening silence, Nureyev's voice is barely audible, uncertain, like he has forgotten how his own name is supposed to feel on his lips. 

When Juno looks at him, he sees a familiar expression that instills terror into his heart. But it is not the horror of their life-or-death fight with Miasma or the immovable, closed-off anger of their reunion. No, the desperation written on Peter Nueyev’s face is that of a 17-year-old boy who was faced with a choice between his only family and thousands of innocent lives. 

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Peter Nureyev and I am sorry that it has put all of you in danger.”

Juno sees the instantaneous recognition in the faces of the rest of his family, Jet’s eyes widening almost imperceptibly, a barely audible _“Oh”_ from Buddy and, to his biggest surprise, a startled rasp from Vespa.

“ _The Angel_?”

“The man on the phone did say Brahma,” Buddy responds slowly, her voice holding none of its previous overbearing coolness. “Oh, Pete, is this what you have been hiding all along?”

The terror in Nureyev’s eyes persists. It is a look that is supposed to slowly fold in on itself as Nureyev does the same, folds away the parts of himself that are incompatible with his best course of action at the moment. But instead Juno sees him frozen there, stunned by the unfamiliar tone in Buddy’s voice and the slow downward arc of Vespa’s blade toward the ground and away from his general direction. 

“I- yes.” 

“Well, that explains the moral core-” she is once again interrupted by a violent shake. “Now everyone back to your tasks, we have Dark Matters to deal with first.” Juno watches her free herself from her blood-red heels and leave them in the middle of the make-shift dance floor. 

“Pete, I am still very cross with you and we will discuss how you are to make up for this to the whole family later. For now you will tell us everything about these people and what they want from you on your way to the medbay.”

Juno watches Nureyev stand there stunned for a long moment, sees the helpless look in his eyes when their gazes meet. 

Having reached the door leading back to the ship, Buddy stops. 

“Which part of _now_ did you not understand, darlings? I am still your captain, until further notice, and we have not one but two pursuers on our trail. I am _not_ going back to prison for my honeymoon.” 

Rita rushes to her side and Vespa sheathes her blade to follow suit, throwing a glance towards Nureyev that still holds some of her usual distrust, but also a hint of the almost fond exasperation that Juno had seen when she was reluctantly learning dance steps from him. 

The three women have exited the garage before Juno manages to win his own battle with the heels he’s wearing and catches up to Nureyev, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder and kissing him properly for the first time in three days. 

“This is for good luck, not a goodbye. Everything will be okay,” the words rush out of him, but they are full of conviction that he only partially feels. Then he’s spinning Nureyev around and pushing him to follow Vespa before the man can respond in any way. 

Over the next few minutes, Nureyev fills them in on the details of the debt that has been an ever-present fixture in his life for longer than Juno could have possibly imagined. With trepidation, he admits to lying about the loss of the Blade and his plan to take the rest of the keys once the family had no more use for them. 

“And I was in on it, yes, get over it,” Juno adds while Nureyev and Vespa are supposedly transferring the Curemother to the Carte Blanche’s scanner-proof hidden safe, tapping impatiently with his bare foot on the cold floor of the garage and looking directly into Jet’s eyes, daring him to protest, as if the man wouldn’t be able to sweep the floor with him if he so wished. 

“We will discuss this later, I need a plan of action now,” Buddy says and he can just imagine her sitting in the pilot’s chair, her dress spilling around her like fresh blood, her expression authoritative, calm, and certain. “Rita darling, will you be able to deal with that tractor beam?” 

“Aye aye, captain!” Juno imagines Rita too, a flurry of movement as she types, glitter from her make-up falling over her keyboard in place of the dust from her favorite chips. “I’m already calibrating a signal that should jam all of their transmissions, including whatever turns on that beam. Then Mista Steel and Mista Jet would only need to get close enough to the Dark Matters ship to broadcast it and we should be all good to go.”

“Very well, I have a plan for our other problem already and I will need you on it when you’re done. Speaking of, Jet dear, how are your vocal chords feeling?” 

“Satisfactory as usual,” Jet responds and Juno prides himself on noting the minute hint of confusion in the other man’s face. 

“Best warm up, darling, we will need a recording of M’Tendere’s Key.” 

Jet immediately responds in the affirmative and reaches to mute his comms, while Juno is still parsing what the request implies about Buddy’s plan, feeling a few relieved tears gathering up in his eye. Of course he didn’t actually believe that Buddy would throw him and Nureyev out of an airlock once they escaped Dark Matters, Rita would be too upset. But to have her ready to give up the Keys is perhaps more of a surprise than it should be. 

“I-” comes Nureyev’s voice, uncertain in a way that is too subtle to be the fabricated naivete of someone like Duke Rose and more reminiscent of the Nureyev Juno has heard during their long nights of excruciatingly honest conversations. “I may already have a recording for this part of the plan, Captain.” 

“Well, how forward-thinking of you, Pete. Very well, retrieve it immedi-” She is cut off by a screech from Rita.

“M’TENDERE’S KEY! That’s why you have been terrorizing us with your depressing instrument, Mista Nureyev!” The excitement of her discovery is almost immediately replaced by a calm “Also I’m done with the jamming signal, it’s transferring to the Ruby 7 now.”

“Well done. Juno, Jet, your time has come. We are also receiving readings that a small pod just launched from the Dark Matters ship, likely sending us another one of those unpleasant bots. You are to intercept and neutralize it, then get close enough to broadcast the jamming signal and retreat back to the ship as fast as possible,” Buddy commands in short order.

 _Easier said than done_ , Juno thinks from the passenger seat of the Ruby 7 a few minutes later as the car produces an interface for something akin to a spaceship cannon. It takes him a while to get used to its grip and weight, and he only manages to connect with the pod on the third shot. He still turns to grin at Jet when it explodes.

“Not bad, huh, big guy?” 

“I never doubted your shooting abilities Juno, but I am afraid there are more of them headed our way,” Jet replies and Juno follows the line of his gaze back to the Dark Matters ship, its imposing silver corpus dwarfing the Carte Blanche. Two more pods are already headed towards their ship, another two launching. 

With a curse, Juno aims again, each shot coming in easier with every pod taken down. The four get immediately replaced and Juno watches the next two, four, six as they launch much faster, as if whatever is spitting them out just got warmed up. 

“I believe they have the capacity to keep launching drones until they become too many for you to stop them before they reach the Carte Blanche, Juno,” Jet says, kicking the car back into gear. “I will need you to keep them at bay while I take the Ruby 7 close enough for us to broadcast the jamming signal.” 

It’s tricky, but Juno has always thrived in the heat of the moment and he keeps up as Jet sets the Ruby on a course to the Dark Matters ship, taking down the growing number of pods and clearing their way. 

Sweat is rolling down Juno’s forehead and his lip feels raw from where he has been biting it in concentration by the time he hears Jet command the Ruby to broadcast the signal. 

There is no indication that it’s worked, except for Rita’s loud cheer that they can hear over their comms.

“Great work, darlings,” comes Buddy’s voice. “Now get back here fast.” 

Jet executes an expert turn and sets a course back to the Carte Blanche. Juno lets his head bounce back against his seat, closing his eyes as the adrenaline rushes out of him. 

He is startled out of the moment by another series of beeps that everyone on the Carte Blanche has learned to recognize as the Ruby 7’s worried tone. 

“Oh, what now?”

“The Ruby has detected a stray pod that has almost reached the Carte Blanche,” Jet announces. 

Juno immediately lurches forward to aim at it, only to see parts of the pod begin detaching as it nears the ship, too near for it to be safe to take the thing down now. They are almost on it when he sees the dark shape launch itself out of the remains of its transport and attach itself to the side of the ship. 

“Can you try to scrape it off the ship, big guy?” 

“That was my intent, Juno,” Jet responds, voice straining as he begins the maneuver. “I’m sorry, Ruby.”

The plan seems to work well at first, Jet’s fine control over the car’s sophisticated systems allowing him to get hear the thing as it slowly makes its way along the Carte Blanche’s side. With a fluid motion and several beeps, the car comes to a momentary halt, pinning the bot between the edge of a headlight and the ship’s hull, its middle panel cracking under the pressure. 

And then the thing rearranges itself and attaches to the Ruby. 

“Damn it!” Juno yells. “Back inside, quickly.” 

“Juno, we are coming to assist,” Nureyev calls over the comms, as the thing crawls over the hood of the car and begins banging against the windshield in an attempt to crack it.

“Stay there, Nureyev,” Juno huffs in response, frantically reaching for his blaster. “We can deal with this.”

His finger is trembling over the trigger guard as Juno can do nothing but watch the bot assault the resilient glass and hope it doesn’t succeed before Jet has managed to land safely back inside. He hears the man command the Ruby to set off an electric charge, but it barely deters the thing. 

Finally, after what feels like an eon, the Ruby is safely inside the ship and even before its wheels have managed to touch the ground, Juno has opened the door, stepping out with one foot and aiming over its side as the thing skitters towards him. The cracked panel in its middle is hard to hit under this angle, but Juno has not spent the last year of shooting practice with Buddy in vain and the thing falls limp, sliding off the side of the car with one of its appendages still reaching towards him.

The doors to the garage open immediately, Vespa and Nureyev rushing towards them as Juno gives the thing several more shots for good measure.

Nureyev rushes to him, hands skipping over Juno’s face and arms as they feel the ship lurch again, regaining its motion.

“Are you okay, my dear? You were amazing.” 

Juno allows himself to be kissed chastely, giving Nureyev a relieved nod and a smile as their foreheads brush together, then grabs his hand when all four of them head to rejoin Buddy and Rita. 

“Good, we are all here,” Buddy says, adjusting her dress as she stands up to greet them. “We should be far away by the time Dark Matters get that ship back in order and I have to say, few people can boast that they had such an eventful reception,” she adds with a self-satisfied smile. “Now, Pete, dear, we are going to need the coordinates to our next destination.”

Juno feels Nureyev give his hand an involuntary nervous squeeze.

“Ah, Captain, I-” he clears his throat and retracts his hand. His voice when he speaks next is measured and even, as if he is launching into a pre-planned speech. “I am sorry to have put you all in danger, my actions over the past year were all with the intent to protect you, but I am afraid I have failed yet again. If you allow me to borrow the Ruby 7 one last time, I will ensure it makes its way back here and that no ramifications of my mistakes reach you.”

“Nureyev, what are you saying?” The words rush out of Juno. The vague plans Nureyev had shared with him before this disaster always included the two of them, if only because Juno would not let it be otherwise. 

“I am saying that I have to face the consequences for my actions, my dear detective,” Nureyev turns to meet his eyes. “When one fashions oneself into a guardian angel, he should not lose sight of his purpose. I did, so I have to make amends, if not to protect all of you, then at least in order not to endanger you further.” 

Surprisingly Vespa is the one to interrupt.

“Why does everything have to be so dramatic with you kids,” she huffs. “Nureyev, you fucked up and I’m not saying I suddenly trust you with my life or something mushy like that, but I know what you stand for and that you wouldn’t hurt Buddy. I can work with that.” 

They are all looking at Vespa, but Juno can sense Nureyev tense up and hear his aborted attempt to respond.

“I agree with Vespa,” Jet chimes in. “I have trusted in your work for this family for some time now, Peter, your background only reinforces my trust. I am willing to help you settle your debts.” 

“Yeah, Mista Nureyev!”

“Right,” Buddy clasps her hands. “Now that it’s settled that we are a family, _as I have been saying for a year,_ will you let us help you, Peter? I mean, why push the deadline with the Ruby, when we can reach your destination so much faster on the Carte Blanche?”

The terrified look has not left Nureyev’s face completely since the phone call, but Juno sees it overlaid with genuine confusion now. He has never seen the man this stumped, the turning of the gears in his head almost audible as Nureyev absorbs the fact that these people around them are willing to take such a huge risk for him, even after all his secrets and lies. He might need more time to believe it, Juno thinks, leaning in to take his hand again. 

“Oh,” Nureyev visibly deflates, the finely controlled expression he usually maintains crumbling for a moment to reveal the fear and vulnerability underneath. Juno is not the only one who sees it. 

“We will talk about this later, darling. First, let’s ensure that we get to have a later. Tell us your original plan and let’s see what we can do to survive this.”

Everyone settles into their usual places as Buddy sets the ship on course for one of Akna’s minor moons. In short order the rest of the family agrees that Nureyev’s plan to obtain the originals or functional copies of each key is in need of some amendments. 

“See, Mista Nur- Ran- uuuuh…” Rita begins.

“You can call me Nureyev now, Rita.”

“Okay, Mista Nureyev! See, what I would be worried about with the Book is that whoever your bad guys are, they wouldn’t know what they are doing with it, they ain’t me after all. Plus, you know how the baddies in the streams are always more technologically illiterate than Mista Steel-” 

Juno’s scoffs. 

“... and even less organized than your room, Mista Nureyev,” Rita continues, unbothered by his reaction. “You can’t let people like that handle the Book as it is, they would accidentally set it loose on the Solar Government’s systems or something and it would collapse the whole galactic network in its curiosity. It’s like in that movie, _Hesperian Park_ , you know, the one where the scientists found some Ancient Martian DNA and grew clones out of it, but they didn’t know what they were doing, so the clones managed to escape and started attacking people in parking lots-”

“I assure you that I understand, Rita,” Nureyev replies.

“Right, so we give them an itsy-bitsy-” she demonstrates with her thumb and index finger pinched together, “part of the Book’s code, a page you could say, that’s made to look like the actual thing, but is programmed to go rogue eventually and make it look like a human mistake, courtesy of the beautiful genius Rrrrrita, of course!” 

“That’s excellent, dear,” Buddy chimes in. “Now, Pete, we are also going to need another gift from your collection.”

The plan goes approximately like this: with the Book of Rita — taking codename inspiration from her 337th favorite stream — a functional copy of the Blade put together with tech from the newly scrapped Dark Matters bot, Nureyev’s recording of M’Tendere’s Key, and the actual Gilded Globe of Reaches Far — judged practically useless as anything more than a very expensive bauble now — the crew of the Carte Blanche approaches the facility that Nureyev directed them to with almost an hour to spare until the deadline given by his creditors. Despite Juno’s vocal disagreement, it is decided that there is no other recourse but for Nureyev to make the delivery alone.

The air between them is too tense for a long emotional send-off, so Juno stays silent and still as Nureyev gently lifts his hands up to press a kiss to his knuckles before letting go. 

If both of them are shaking lightly, neither sees fit to acknowledge it. 

“I love you, come back,” Juno says finally, not waiting for a response as he retreats to the garage door to watch with the others as Nureyev sits behind the Ruby 7’s wheel and sets off alone. 

They begin with only an audio feed from Nureyev's own hidden transmitter. Despite only hearing the clack of his heels, Juno can imagine the way he looks, the mask of poise and ease firmly secured - a character, the first without a name of his own, seamlessly obscuring the true face of Peter Nureyev. 

“Stop,” comes a gruff voice. “Drop the case and allow my man over there to search you.” 

“A-HA! Finally!” Rita’s cheer distracts Juno from the image in his head, drawing his attention to the main console screens where she has managed to pull a live feed from an overhead camera. 

Nureyev is in a hangar, a tall and well-built goon with the unmistakable lines of body armor showing under their suit — the one Juno heard talking — is standing about twenty feet away, military-grade blaster pointed at Peter’s chest, while a shorter man pats him down. 

It only now occurs to Juno that none of them have changed out of their wedding outfits and it’s probably a mild onset of hysterics that makes him bark out a laugh when the man attempts to check for weapons under Nureyev’s corset. The emotion quickly transforms into genuine fear, because Juno knows for a fact that the tight garment hides no less than four knives of varying type and size, and if the guard manages to find any of them, there would be nothing he or anyone else could do about a deadly blast embedding itself into the chest of the man who he wants to spend the rest of his life with. 

He is not the only one watching with bated breath. When the man finally gives up and declares Nureyev all clear, Juno’s relieved sigh is joined by four exhilarations and exclamations of varying volume. The Aurinkos watch as the other goon nods for Peter to take the suitcase and follow through the door behind them. 

“Come on, Rita, switch to the next room,” Juno tries not to growl. 

“Don’t rush me, Mista Steel, this system is extra tricky and outside stressors slow me down!”

They all listen instead. Nureyev’s heels clacking on a stone floor alongside a second set of heavy footsteps, a turn and then another, what seems like an endless elevator ride, a walk down a long narrow corridor, and then finally, a door opening. 

“Ah, Peter,” Juno does not recognize the voice, but the overly cordial tone is familiar with the unsettling feeling it induces. “Punctual as always. Sit, sit, please!” 

The sound of Nureyev’s heels muted by a soft and likely extremely expensive carpet and then there's a shuffle as he sits down. The door closes after another shuffle of footsteps - the guard must have entered with him. 

“Well?” the voice inquires. 

“I have the items,” Nureyev begins, his tone perfectly neutral as he lifts the suitcase and enters the password into the digital lock. “I believe you know what each of them is supposed to do, so you can test them.” 

“You know what, Peter,” Juno can imagine the venomous threatening smile that the name is uttered with. “I think I would prefer it if you demonstrated yourself.” 

The next several minutes pass in tense silence on the Carte Blanche as Nureyev goes through the items in the suitcase to prove their authenticity. 

“Very good, very good,” comes the response once he’s done. 

Meanwhile, the furious clacking of Rita’s keyboard keys pauses with a triumphant “NYEEEH!” from her and they finally have access to a video feed. The screens show a large office, about as lavish as Juno had expected. From the camera’s vantage point he has a perfect view of Nureyev, back straight, eyes sharp and a deceptive ease in the air he holds himself with. The suitcase sits open front of him, turned to face the man sitting opposite. Juno only sees the back of a head with short, finely coiffed hair and the man’s wide shoulders, covered by a finely-tailored suit jacket of a midnight blue color. The same goon that escorted Nureyev is standing by the door, hand hovering over their blaster. 

“Now, Peter,” the man at the desk continues, drawing the suitcase towards him and shutting the lid. “Is there something else you would like to share with me?”

The quality of the feed they are watching is not high enough for Juno to be able to discern the fine details of Nureyev’s expression, but if the man was in front of him, he would be looking to the left corner of his mouth, waiting for that slight downturn that shows Nureyev’s hesitation. 

“I believe I have fulfilled my end of our bargain,” he replies evenly. 

“Of course, of course,” the man’s familiar tone lets up slightly, a menacing note creeping into his voice as he leans over the desk to look at Nureyev more closely. “I only mean that it would be a shame for us to have to resort to our contacts on New Kinshasa if you have been dishonest.” He reaches for a file from a stack on the side of his desk and opens it with a casual flick. “We could also reach out to a Mister Juno Steel...” 

“Don’t fall for this, Pete,” Buddy mutters. 

Juno feels the shake in his forearm as his grip on the edge of the navigation panel tightens. Were he in Nureyev’s place, would he admit to the lie, hoping to bear the brunt of the consequences himself, he wonders. It sounds like something the old Juno Steel — the one who was always a moment away from self-sacrifice — would do, but in the present Juno wishes with all of his heart that Nureyev has not learned anything from that version of him. 

Nureyev clears his throat, “I assure you that there would be no need.”

There is a pause, the two of them still like two stone pillars on either side of the desk in a silent stand-off. 

“Very well, Peter. We will be in touch.”

Juno thinks he hears a relieved exhale from Rita, but his own breath is still stuck in his throat as the goon opens the door and escorts Nureyev back the way he came. He counts the seconds after the engine of the Ruby 7 starts, timing his sprint to the garage doors, where he stands in anxious vigil until he sees an unmistakable flash of green. 

Nureyev is barely out of the car before Juno has managed to bury himself in his arms, basking in the warmth and relief of the embrace. Absently, he realizes how cold the floor feels against his bare feet. 

“Juno,” Nureyev tilts his head up with a hand on his cheek. “I love you and I’m so s-”

Juno doesn’t let him finish, kissing the apology off his lips, chastely at first, and then much less so as he feels Nureyev’s fingers splay over the skin of his waist and back that is uncovered by the dress. 

There will be time for apologies later, for explanations and matching what the rest of their family know about the Angel of Brahma with Nureyev’s truth. There will be time to organize a move against Nureyev’s debtors and their allies on New Kinshasa, so that no life there could be threatened as a means to extort Nureyev or anyone else ever again. They will also find a way to deal with their Dark Matters pursuers eventually. 

First, they take what they can from the bar and move to the common area for a semblance of continuation to the wedding reception. Too exhausted from the past several hours, days, or maybe the whole year behind them, the Aurinkos cannot do much but lounge on the soft furniture and share in the comfort of each others’ presence.

It is more than enough. 

Juno and Nureyev are the last ones who remain in the room, after they give the brides a proper send-off, even if it’s only to their room two doors down, and then watch Rita and Jet slowly make their way out to their respective rooms.

They are splayed out on the sofa, one of Juno’s arms over Nureyev’s shoulders, the other intertwined with his. He runs his thumb over Nureyev’s knuckles, mouth opening hesitantly as he tries to pick the words. 

“Hey, Nureyev,” he says quietly, watching the man’s head immediately turn up towards him, the tired look in his eyes still filled with an adoration that makes Juno's chest feel tight. “Have I told you about my old wedding dress?”

And as Nureyev gives him an inquisitive nod, urging him to elaborate, Juno decides that it is finally time to look for a replacement. 

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, I hope you enjoyed if you got this far! Thank you for reading and please leave kudos, or even a comment, they keep me going. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [@aro-hawke](http://aro-hawke.tumblr.com/).


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